


Descry Thy Destiny

by NamelesslyNightlock, Rabentochter



Series: This Was A Bad Idea (but we know what we're doing) [17]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Anal Fingering, Banter, Bard Tony Stark, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Bickering, Emotions, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Witcher Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: Most would be shocked if Loki of Asgard stormed into a tavern covered head to toe in monster guts only moments after being declared dead, but not Tony. He knows the infamous Witcher better than that– so of course he already has a bath prepared.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: This Was A Bad Idea (but we know what we're doing) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1388356
Comments: 47
Kudos: 507





	Descry Thy Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> We decided to start the New Year by starting off a New Series. You can expect a few more Witcher AUs in the future xD  
>   
>  ~~....we might have fallen down a deep hole but we've got this _completely_ under control. We know exactly what we're doing.~~  
>   
> Art by **Rabentochter** , fic by **NamelesslyNightlock**.

It is said that people linked by destiny will always find each other.

Tony, though… well, everyone always said that he was on the _wrong_ side of normal. But he wasn’t one to just follow the path that _destiny_ appeared to have carved out for him, and rather than just sitting back and accepting his lot in life, he made it his mission to seek out trouble. He travelled as a bard all over the world, sowing stories of monsters and madmen, singing of tales he wished that he had lived himself– although, in recent years, more and more of those tales _were_ of things he had been blessed enough to witness with his own two eyes.

There was one particular madman, one particular kind of trouble that Tony yearned for the most—

And the moment he heard that a _Witcher_ had been hired to kill the selkimore that lived in the lake only two towns over, Tony immediately began gathering his things. He didn’t care that he’d only arrived in Rhodey’s house the day before, or that he had planned to stay for a week or so to rest up before getting back to his usual travels.

“Tony, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Rhodey said, sounding more tired than anything else. “You have friends here—”

“I have _one_ friend here,” Tony interrupted, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “And while I do love spending time with you, it’s not the same. You’ve got a life of your own—”

“And he doesn’t?”

Tony’s hands stilled on the laces of his pack. “That’s not fair. You _know—”_

“I know that you’ve spent every moment of the past couple of years chasing after him, and I know that he’s never given you a second glance. He uses you when he needs, and then he just throws you down when he’s done with you.”

“That’s not true,” Tony replied, his fingers curling into fists. “He does care. He’s my friend.”

Rhodey sighed, his eyes so very, very tired as he said– “I’m just not sure that _he_ believes that.”

Tony clenched his jaw, but forced his fingers to relax so that he could finish with his pack. Once it was all properly laced, he slung it over his shoulder and turned to face Rhodey with a stern expression.

“You don’t know him,” Tony said. “He _is_ my friend. It’s been months since I saw him last, and if he’s this close, then I can’t just… Rhodey, I _have_ to go and find him. I just… I can’t…”

Tony knew that a little of his desperation, a little of the _yearning_ he felt must be slipping into his tone and colouring the lines of his expression. He knew it, because… the shine in Rhodey’s eyes almost looked like _pity_.

“Tony, he’s a _Witcher_. You know they can’t feel emotion.”

“You’ve never even met him—”

“I’ve heard the stories—”

“ _Yes,_ stories that _I’ve_ fabricated,” Tony insisted. “Songs that _I_ embellished. I’m his Barker, I’m the one who makes sure the whole world stays on his good side. You’ve heard that he’s a ruthless killer who murders monsters and _elves_ to save whole towns because that’s what _I_ wanted the world to believe, because that’s what keeps him in a _job_ , what keeps him warm and fed. But he’s not. When it matters, he’s thoughtful and he’s _kind_. Sometimes, that means getting his hands dirty, but he never kills when he doesn’t have to, and he always makes sure to defend those who need it.”

Tony didn’t know when his breathing had grown so heavy, or when he had started clutching the strap of his pack at his shoulder so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. But he stared Rhodey down until his expression softened, until the other man backed away with an exhausted sigh.

“Tony,” he said. “I only want to make sure that you are looking after yourself.”

“I am,” Tony insisted. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said. “But Tony… when he abandons you, please remember that you have a place here, all right? No matter what.”

Tony pushed down what he _wanted_ to say, and focused on only the second half of the sentence. “Even if I don’t have any money?”

“Even then.”

The thought stayed with Tony as he said his final goodbye and headed out the door, making his way to the main road and toward the town that was rumoured to currently host the continent’s most infamous Witcher. He wished that he could say with certainty that Loki would _not_ abandon him, but…

Well. Loki wasn’t the kind of person to _ever_ sit still. It was one of the things that Tony loved about him, that constant state of thrill and adventure. He swept through a town like a whirlwind, killing any monsters that threatened the people and then leaving in search of more blood, more coin, more _work._ And although he didn’t ever seem to do anything for _himself,_ he never got close to anyone either.

Tony liked to think that he was different. He and Loki had run into each other many times after all, just as often _not_ by Tony’s own design as the times that were. Surely that had to mean something, right? That even though Loki insisted that Tony was little more than the mud on his boots, even though Loki spent every moment they were together complaining about Tony’s company, that even though Loki always seemed like he wanted to get rid of Tony as soon as was inhumanly possible… surely, the fact that they _kept running into each other_ meant that Loki had to like him at least a little?

Well, Tony has always preferred to be optimistic, and he _knew_ that Loki was strong and skilled enough to be able to avoid a single, _loud_ Bard if he so wished. Right?

Right.

Rhodey was wrong, Tony knew it. Loki might be rough and prickly on the outside, but… Tony knew that there was more to Loki than that. He _knew_ it, and… Loki _was_ his friend.

Tony was more than happy with that– he was _honoured_ to be Loki’s friend. No one else on the continent could currently truly claim that. And Tony… well, he might _wish_ for more, he might _dream_ under the safe cover of darkness, he might _fantasise_ while stroking himself to completion– but, despite his optimism, he was also capable of being realistic.

It took Tony most of the day to make it to the village, and by the time he arrived his feet were aching and sore. But, that didn’t put him off– he kept his course straight to the tavern, knowing that would be the place Loki would return to as soon as he was done disposing of the monster. 

The tavern was decently sized, larger than the one that serviced Rhodey’s village. And you know what, it was in a place like this that he and Loki had first met, actually. A tavern in a town that Tony could no longer remember the name of, where he had been singing to try and earn some coin. The people there had, ah, been a bit of a tough crowd, but Tony had been intrigued by the brooding figure in the shadowed corner of the taproom.

Loki hadn’t been impressed by his song, either, but unlike the other patrons, he hadn’t thrown a bread roll at his head. He’d offered constructive criticism instead, which, obviously, Tony took as licence to join Loki as he headed off to deal with the town’s monster problem.

And that moment is now, of course, legendary. It was the very first adventure shared by Loki of Asgard and his bard, Tony Stark– the first song, nay, the first _ballad_ of many. Ever since then, they’d continued to meet and spend, well, a day or two together every few months, until their quest was completed and Loki would move on to the next, while Tony was… well, he’d travel, singing his songs, spreading Loki’s story across the whole world.

It was… well, it was, _fine—_

Speaking of songs, though—

Tony had _heard_ of the selkiemore that lived in the lake which bordered this particular town. He knew that it had killed far too many people to even _want_ to begin contemplating, and he also knew that selkiemores were not only completely vicious, but also incredibly _large._

Oh, yes. He was going to get a song out of this one, that was certain.

And, sure enough, Tony had only just settled himself at a table with a pint when the tavern doors crashed open, admitting a burly man covered in his own blood.

There was a quick kerfuffle as everyone hurried to get the guy a drink, and then they all crowded around to get the story. Tony made certain he was right in the middle of it– telling them that he was the Black Wolf’s official Barker helped with that, even though the blood-drenched man winced as he heard Loki’s moniker.

But he began to tell his tale, and that was all that Tony needed– he pulled a notebook and a charcoal pencil from his pack, writing quickly and nodding along as the man spoke. It was going well, but as the man reached the climax of his story, right when Loki was standing on the frozen lake, his silver sword held high as the monster bore down upon him– the man choked on his words.

“And then?” Tony asked, looking up with a frown as his pencil paused on the paper.

“And then…” the man’s voice trembled, and his eyes were blown wide as he gesticulated the story with his hands. “And then… it _swallowed_ that Witcher… _whole.”_

The whole room seemed to gasp in horror, but– Tony merely nodded, and wrote down another word. “This is great,” he said, making sure he took note of the tone– the man really had done a good job of making the story dramatic. But his words seemed to draw attention, and he glanced up apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, realising he’d interrupted the flow. “It’s just, Loki’s usually pretty tight-lipped on the details, you know? So what happened next?”

“Well… he _died,”_ the man said– and another whisper of horror echoed through the tavern, the assembled patrons looking down as one.

But Tony just shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “He’s fine.”

The man frowned. “No,” he said. “I was _there._ I saw those teeth close over his whole body—”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tony cut in. “But this _is_ Loki of Asgard we’re talking about. You’re right, it _does_ make a good story, though. But, unfortunately, I can’t really say he died in the story when—”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” the man snapped, jabbing his finger in Tony’s direction. “There is no way that Witcher—”

The man was cut off as the tavern door opened with enough force that it crashed against the wall, and the taproom fell silent as an ungodly creature crossed the threshold. The patrons stared, holding a collective breath—

But Tony? He _grinned._

“See?” he said, not bothering to hide the touch of triumph. “Told you.”

Loki looked terrible. There was no other way of putting it– he was covered head to toe in horrible black slime, and he smelled as if he had cut his way out of the selkiemore. Which, actually, was probably exactly what had happened.

That was Tony’s Loki, always coming through with a fantastically exciting story for him to tell.

But, as terrible as Loki looked, he was still the sweetest sight that Tony had ever seen. And, even though Loki’s slime-covered lips twisted into something of a sneer as he saw Tony– Tony was the one he made a beeline for, thank-you-very-much.

“Loki!” Tony exclaimed, sliding the notebook away and jumping up to his feet. “I was just hearing how you _saved this whole town_ from certain, _gruesome_ death!”

Loki’s bright, inhumanly green eyes seemed to spark with… _something_ Tony knew wasn’t actually annoyance. Not really. Then the Witcher’s gaze slid to the man who had claimed Loki had died, and he held out his hand.

“My payment?”

The man hurried to fetch his coin-purse from his belt, and handed over the entire thing. Loki didn’t bother with counting it. He tucked it away, then glanced over Tony once more before moving toward the bar.

Taking that as his cue, Tony picked up his pack and followed, his smile entirely insatiable. He spoke quickly with one of the serving girls as he went, handing over a few coins of his own, and was sliding up beside Loki only half a minute or so later.

“Good work with that selkiemore, I’ll have them singing about this one for months,” Tony crowed. “Hey, it’s good to see you again, by the way. Even if it has been… well, it’s been far too long.” Tony frowned, not quite sure exactly _how_ long it had been. He knew it was probably the longest stretch of time they had gone without seeing each other for… well, ever, probably, but other than that…

But before he could do the maths—

“Nine months,” Loki muttered.

Tony arched a brow, but Loki didn’t even look at him, focusing on the pint that the barman had slid before him. Tony, though– he couldn’t just leave _that_ alone.

“Keeping track, were you?” Tony asked.

“Only relishing the length of _peace_ I managed to find,” Loki replied– and Tony’s grin widened. Ah yes, there was the sharp tongue that he had missed so very much.

And of course, Tony wasn’t the kind to just sit and take it without giving a little back.

“You know, you really do smell like something very dead,” he said. “Beyond dead. In fact, I think that stench could _wake_ the dead.”

“If it is bothering you, you can always leave me be,” Loki replied.

“Nah,” Tony said. “I have a far better idea.”

Loki’s eyes near on rolled all the way to the back of his head, but Tony _saw_ that smile. “And what horror, pray tell, have you thought of?”

Tony merely smirked, and gestured for Loki to follow him up to his room. And at first, Loki didn’t follow, but then it was Tony’s turn to roll his eyes as he reached out to take Loki’s hand and pull him toward the staircase in the corner.

It was surprise more than anything else that had Loki following along despite his superior strength– and it was probably also the surprise that kept him from pulling his hand away.

Loki’s eyes, the only splash of colour among the dark, slick mess covering his face, narrowed as Tony paused to speak to one of the serving girls– and Tony would be lying if he said he didn’t take a little pleasure from the fact that he could make a _Witcher_ nervous. Still, their hands remained clasped they moved up the stairs and along a hallway, and into the room where the serving girl had already prepared the hot bath that Tony had asked for earlier.

Tony dropped his pack unceremoniously against the wall as they entered, and then firmly closed the door behind them. When he turned back, it was to see that Loki was staring at the steaming bath, his eyes a little wider than normal.

“You all right?” Tony asked, tugging gently on the slimy hand he still held in is own.

Loki blinked, and then looked at Tony as if he were surprised by his existence. “Yes,” he said. Then he swallowed– something Tony would _not_ have recommended, given that Loki had to have a mouth full of slime right about now. Then his voice was a little firmer as he said, “I have killed a selkiemore before. These entrails will not come off unless we have chamomile.”

“Then I’ll get some,” Tony replied.

Loki looked like he might have been about to say something else, but Tony was already back out of the door. The sooner he retrieved it, the sooner he could come back into the room with Loki.

The pot of chamomile cost a few more coins, but Tony didn’t mind– especially not when he saw the sight that awaited him upon his return.

Loki had divested himself of all his leather and was sitting bare in the tub, his arms resting on the edges. And although it was smeared with monster guts, even just that was the most of Loki’s skin that Tony had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and his mouth went a little dry as he forced himself to look away.

“I got it,” he said, holding the pot up for Loki to see.

“Then bring it here,” Loki said. “It is of no use to me over there.”

Now, usually, Tony would have had a witty quip prepared on the tip of his tongue, but he rather thought that if he tried to say something all that would come out would be some kind of needy groan. Honestly, this was _embarrassing._

_Get a grip, Tony._

Usually, it would take _far_ more than the sight of arms and shoulders to have him hoping that his pants were loose enough to hide his reaction.

But… this wasn’t _usually,_ was it? This was Loki, the clever, witty, thorny, incredibly good looking and ridiculously fucking selfless person who Tony had been trying to convince himself for the better part of five years he wasn’t in love with.

Watching Loki rub the chamomile over his body was a sweet torture, unable to help his gaze from following Loki’s long fingers as they slowly revealed the creamy skin under the black slime. He couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried, and he shifted a little, tugging surreptitiously at the side of his pants to try and get a little more comfortable.

And _then_ , as if it couldn’t get any worse—

“I am going to need your help.”

Had he been singing, Tony might have been proud of the pitch his voice reached as he yelped, “You _what?”_

“Your help.” Loki glanced up and held Tony’s gaze as he pressed the palm of his free hand against the edge of the bath. The water sloshed as he leaned forward, and– Tony knew he should look away, but… Loki’s green eyes held his gaze, burning with fire as Loki stood tall, water running down over his skin.

His leather clothing had ensured that most of his body was not as coated with muck as his face, but smears of it still lined his well-toned muscles. And of course, the implications were immediately clear– Loki would not be able to reach every piece of himself. He needed _help._

Swallowing hard, Tony stepped a little closer, his movements slow. Loki didn’t look impatient, and he wasn’t even smirking. Save for his eyes his face remained near on impassive, watching Tony as he moved closer and held out his hand for the pot of chamomile.

The pot was warm against Tony’s skin, and he drew in a breath as he moved to stand behind Loki. He took a second to steady himself, not wanting his fingers to be trembling– and then he pressed his hand to Loki’s back and began to rub away the slime. He had to apply a bit more pressure than he was expecting to get the slime off, but he quickly found a rhythm that worked—

And was he imagining things, or… was Loki leaning into his touch, a little? It certainly felt like it, the initial tension that had been coiled in the muscles of Loki’s back melting away under Tony’s hands. And you know what? This wasn’t so bad. With the cleaning to focus on, and the steady progress of wiping away black slime to reveal more creamy skin, Tony could wrest back his state of mind from the cloud of desire that—

That only intensified as Loki let out a low moan, the tenor of it sounding positively obscene to Tony’s ears. It wasn’t hard to work out what happened, as the tight knot in Loki’s muscles was easy to feel– and Tony couldn’t help it. He pressed down again, relishing the way that Loki melted against him, the fearsome Witcher near on _purring_ at Tony’s touch.

Loki’s head leaned back as Tony continued massaging, and Tony’s gaze was drawn to Loki’s throat. He wished that he could lean in and press his lips to the soft skin there, that he could trail kisses over _every_ inch of Loki’s body. They would be soft and light at first, before he began to kiss with a little more passion, slow and open-mouthed, his teeth nipping in the spots that would make Loki squirm—

Tony forced himself to shake that image out of his head. Because he was meant to be _cleaning._

Goddamn, Tony. _Control._

Control was awfully slippery to hold on to, though, when every movement of his fingers drew another moan from Loki’s lips, when every moan caused his pants to feel a little tighter. Tony was almost aching with need as he finished cleaning Loki’s shoulder blades, as he wiped the last smear of slime from Loki’s lower back. And then… his hands slid lower still, expecting that Loki would tell him to stop—

But Loki was still pressing into his touch. He did not complain, and he did not flinch. His breathing was shallow, and from what Tony could see of Loki’s face, his eyes had fallen half closed, as if he were struggling to keep himself alert.

And, _oh._

Tony had done this. _Tony,_ with only his hands on Loki’s back, had brought the Black Wolf to a state of near bliss. Tony pressed his lips together to hold in a moan of his own, and he caught himself wondering if _Loki_ was being affected similarly, caught himself wishing he could see around Loki’s shoulders, could _see_ if Loki was as hard as he was. And perhaps… perhaps Loki’s hardness might need washing as well, perhaps Tony’s fingers could curl around his girth and stroke away any remaining stain—

Though as it was, he couldn’t keep his gaze from his hands now, where they were rubbing down over the curve of Loki’s ass. And oh shit, it wasn’t like the tight-fitting leather pants Loki always wore left a lot to the imagination, but the feel of Loki’s ass under his hands—

Firm, smooth, _fuck—_

“Thank you,” Loki said suddenly, his voice oddly hoarse– the deep, rasping sound of it sending a shiver down Tony’s spine. “I believe… that I can do the rest.”

Tony nodded and backed away, giving back the chamomile, letting his hands fall to his sides and _tearing_ his gaze from Loki as the other man slid back down to sit in the tub once more. Tony then washed his hands in the basin on the other side of the room, and only when he heard the tell-tale sounds that Loki was properly back in the bath and washing himself again did he turn back around. He took a pitcher from the basin, and took it to help Loki remove the muck from his hair as well.

As he approached once again, he took note of the parts of Loki’s cleaned skin that he could now see more clearly. Loki had come out of the fight well, but there were still a few scratches here and there. Tony could only be glad it was chamomile that Loki had asked for– as well as removing the slime, it would have the added benefit of cleaning out the wounds.

Loki glanced up as he drew closer, and– were his usually ivory cheeks stained a little pink? Uh, well, if they were, Tony didn’t give himself the chance to examine them closely because—

He had to admit, given the way he was _still_ aching for Loki, it was a little cathartic to throw the water in his face.

Just a _little_.

“Oh, stop complaining,” Tony said as Loki spluttered, moving to the basin to get some more clean water– as the water in Loki’s tub was looking a bit like Tony imagined the sky would, were it ever divested of all the stars. “You should be glad that I’m here. Without me you’d’ve been stuck smelling like selkiemore guts forever, my friend.”

Loki actually _froze_ at that, and his voice was rough as he said, “We are _not_ friends.”

“Oh?” Tony asked, forcing down the twinge and the reminder of Rhodey’s warnings in favour of what he had observed himself. “So you usually just let strangers rub chamomile over your lovely bottom then, do you? My, I mean I know you’re a Witcher, but you _do_ live an exciting life.”

Loki let out a sigh that seemed to pull from his whole body, his shoulders slumping forward. “It is not… as grand as you seem to think that it is,” he admitted. There was something in Loki’s tone that made Tony’s chest twinge, and he moved closer with downturned lips, kneeling in front of the tub and resting his forearms on the edge as Loki continued. “You are always singing of my deeds as if they are mighty adventures, glorious battles. But most of the time…” Loki lifted his hand, and let some of the black water trail down between his fingers. “It ends with me covered in monster guts. There is very little glory in that.”

“But you never do it for the glory,” Tony pointed out– and when Loki met that with a glare, he changed tacks with a small smile. “I just mean… well, I always thought it seemed a little bit lonely. You do what you do to keep everyone safe, and they just, throw it back into your face. Just because you’re not human. It’s _why_ I sing your songs, you know. Not just for the money, though yeah, that does help. But to try and make the people see that really, you’re not all that bad. And then maybe one day, they’ll… I don’t know. Maybe you’ll make a friend.” He swallowed, and forced himself to say the next words. “Maybe you’ll find someone who wants you more than that.”

Loki’s expression hardened a little, though… in a way that almost made him look _more_ vulnerable. “I don’t need anyone,” he muttered. “I’ve never _wanted_ to need anyone, and I don’t want anyone to need me.”

Tony felt the corners of his lips tug up a little further, and he leaned forward over the inky water. He held Loki’s gaze, his heartbeat quickening so that he could feel it in his chest– and his next words left him in breathy whisper.

“And yet… here we are.”

Loki’s eyes widened at that, his breath catching just as surely as Tony’s was. And they were _both_ leaning in now, their eyes falling closed, Loki’s hand sliding over Tony’s cheek, their heads tilting just _so—_

And then their lips pressed together, and Tony felt the rest of the world fall away.

Unlike the rest of him, Loki’s lips were soft as they moved slowly, gently, _tenderly_ against Tony’s. It was entirely different from what Tony had ever imagined kissing Loki would be like, and yet it felt perfectly right at the same time, the taste of chamomile and _Loki_ on his tongue sending warmth all through him and reigniting the fire that had died down over the course of their conversation.

Tony shifted his arms from the edge of the tub and slid a hand through Loki’s wet hair to pull him closer, the other curling around the back of Loki’s neck. He pressed up on his knees, leaned further over the tub, focused only on the ecstasy of Loki’s lips, his tongue, his _moans—_

And then Tony lost his balance, slipping forward and faceplanting into the honestly _disgusting_ water.

“Fuck,” Tony groaned as he surfaced—

Loki’s arms were around his waist, holding him awkwardly in his lap. And honestly, the _only_ benefit in this whole situation was that Tony could feel a warm hardness pressing against his leg through his saturated pants, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now that he was all gross and covered in monster guts, could he?

He grimaced as he glanced up—

But then Loki… started to chuckle.

At first, Tony wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Because. Loki doesn’t laugh. Not once in all the years that Tony had known him had Loki _ever_ laughed—

And yet, there he was, looking at Tony with eyes that were _shining,_ and laughing as if… well, as if he were actually happy.

“Loki…” Tony whispered, lifting up a hand– but just before he touched it to Loki’s cheek, he realised that it was wet with the foul water, and he paused with a grimace. Loki had only just got all the slime off his face. Surely he didn’t want more.

Loki didn’t stop smiling though, and he reached up to take that hand in his own. He stared at it for a moment—

Then his eyes shone brighter than they had before, and dark, vein-like lines appeared across the chalky skin around his sockets. Tony’s breath caught as he watched– he never tired of seeing Loki use his magic, never tired of the way that the green light would twist around his fingers in a manner that was almost playful, making it look easy when Tony _knew_ that wielding Chaos in such a way was a feat most mages could only _dream_ of.

It almost distracted him enough that he didn’t see what Loki did– but the way that Loki pulled the blackness from the water and from their skin with a simple twist of his free hand and then threw it across the room with a flick of his fingers, leaving them both sitting in water that was pristine… well, it was hard to miss.

And, uh—

“Hang on,” Tony said, frowning. “Don’t tell me you could have done that the _whole time—_ ”

“I could have,” Loki admitted, letting go of Tony’s hand in favour of curling both of his own around Tony’s waist. Then he leaned in, and as he whispered over Tony’s skin he pulled Tony down more firmly against the hardness in his lap, causing his own voice to catch. “But what would have been the fun in that?”

Tony moaned into Loki’s mouth as Loki crushed their lips back together, the earlier tenderness replaced with a hunger that gnawed through them both. Tony ground down with his hips, causing Loki to buck up into him and creating friction along his own trapped erection all at once. Their kiss broke as they both gasped for breath, and Tony took the chance to reach down into the water, leaning back enough so that he could slide his hand between them and wrap his fingers around Loki’s cock. Loki’s head fell back with a guttural moan, and Tony leaned down to press his lips to Loki’s exposed throat, nipping and sucking and mouthing just as he had imagined as he worked Loki’s cock in slow, firm strokes.

“You know, they say that Witchers can’t feel anything,” Tony whispered against Loki’s hot skin. “But whoever _they_ are, they’ve clearly never seen a Witcher like this.”

“ _Stark,”_ Loki groaned– and then one hand was in Tony’s hair tugging harshly until their mouths crashed back together again. Loki kissed him until his lips were aching, teeth pulling over Tony’s lower lip as he moved back to hiss– “Speak to me like that again, and—”

“I don’t care what you do, Loki, so long as you aren’t planning on stopping,” Tony said. “You can do whatever the hell you want to me—”

He was cut with a moan and another kiss– and then another firm stroke of his hand and a swipe of his thumb across the head and over the slit of Loki’s cock was enough to have Loki calling out his name in a completely different tone—

But it still was not exactly what Tony wanted.

“I think we’ve reached the point where you can use my first name,” Tony gasped. “I mean– oh, _fuck—”_

Loki smirked, and flung the tattered remains of the clothes his hands and magic had just torn from Tony’s body to the side. Tony didn’t care to see where they landed– he only cared about the sudden feel of Loki’s skin against his own, the feel of Loki lifting him with one hand while the other slid down _past_ Tony’s cock, brushing behind his balls and gliding over his perineum. Tony’s eyes fell closed and his mouth opened in a gasp as Loki rubbed a finger over his hole, his own hand momentarily stuttering to a halt—

And then Loki pulled away, leaving Tony to hold himself up, his knees straining.

“You are not to stop either, _Anthony,”_ Loki said, his voice wicked.

“Asshole,” Tony muttered.

“Oh, ye– _yes_ ,” Loki groaned, eyes closing again for a moment as Tony continued his movements. His own cock was _begging_ to be touched, and as Loki’s finger pressed against his hole again, the tip of it pushing inside, Tony took his other hand from Loki’s hair and gripped his own erection, planning on shifting it down so he could stroke the pair of them together—

But then Loki’s finger pushed all the way in, gliding smoother than it should have, helped by a tingle that could only be magic.

“Ooh,” Tony groaned, relaxing everything, pressing his face to Loki’s shoulder to stifle his moans as Loki pulled his finger out and then pushed back in once again. “Oh, shit, oh fuck– _Loki—”_

Tony quickened his own pace as Loki continued to pump in and out, both of their cocks hot and heavy in his hands. His whole body was on fire, his skin burning hot, and as Loki pressed a second finger inside him he felt like he was already beginning to come undone. Loki must have agreed, for there was no complaint this time as Tony stopped stroking them and leaned in to kiss Loki instead, far sloppier than they had in the past but no less fucking enjoyable.

When they pulled apart, Loki slid his fingers free and gripped Tony’s hips once more.

“Turn around.”

The bath was far too small, but they were more than determined, and it was not long before Tony was settled with his back pressed against Loki’s chest, and his ass against Loki’s hardened, throbbing erection. Loki’s fingers tightened around Tony’s hips as he lifted him– and then Tony reached between them to grip the base of Loki’s cock—

And then they both groaned in unison as Tony slid down, taking it all.

They stayed still for a moment, catching their breath. Loki’s hands slid around Tony’s chest, and he leaned down to kiss Tony’s neck. Tony ground back into Loki’s lap, then pushed up with his legs and braced against the side of the tub with his arms—

And then Loki was thrusting upwards, slamming balls-deep into Tony before sliding back down, never slipping all the way out. The water was sloshing over the tub as they moved, but neither of them cared– their muscles shook with the exertion, their hair stuck to the skin on their faces, their voices cried out in curses and each other’s names.

It wasn’t long before Loki came, burying his face into Tony’s back, his teeth pressing into skin as his cock throbbed with heat deep inside Tony. Tony whined at the lack of movement, wriggling on Loki’s lap as he tried to reach his own completion, his whole body all but _screaming_ from the drawn out arousal—

Loki gripped his hips, holding him still with a bitten off groan. In the back of his mind Tony was aware that overstimulation did not feel great, but he wasn’t done, he _needed_ Loki—

But then, when Loki slipped free he replaced his soft cock with his fingers and filled Tony once more, curling them to rub in _exactly_ the right spot.

“I’ve always thought that you were beautiful, Anthony,” Loki whispered, his voice broken and positively _spent._

Then the hand not currently pumping fingers into Tony’s aching hole wrapped around his cock, and Tony arched his spine and threw back his head as he came so _very_ close to slipping over the edge—

“But never more so than you are now,” Loki continued. “Needy and whining and _mine.”_

The last word was punctuated with a twist of his hand and press of teeth against Tony’s shoulder, and Tony _finally_ came with a hoarse cry of Loki’s name, his release staining the once-black water a cloudy white. Then he fell back against Loki’s chest, exhausted and rather sure that he wouldn’t be moving for about a week.

Or, well. More realistically, at least half an hour.

Loki’s hands were caressing his hair, running down his chest, stroking over his stomach. Tony smiled as he pressed his hands over Loki’s, holding him close as he leaned his head back against Loki’s shoulder

“I could stay here forever,” Tony sighed.

“I couldn’t,” Loki replied. “I know that you are a lot shorter than me, but this bath is actually rather small.”

Tony felt himself tense, worried that maybe he’d read this wrong—

But, then.

“There is a bed over there,” Loki said, moving his head in what was probably a gesture, but Tony couldn’t see it properly. “It looks somewhat comfortable, and large enough for the two of us.”

And oh, but that sounded good. On the other hand, though, that _would_ also require moving.

“Five more minutes,” Tony groaned, nuzzling into Loki’s skin– and he was rewarded with another chuckle. Amazing.

“All right,” Loki agreed– and Tony felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Five more minutes.”

And it was such a small thing, only five more minutes when Loki had several lifetimes left to live. But Loki was the kind of person who _never_ stayed in one place, and here he was promising to stay for Tony– even if only for five minutes.

And… Tony couldn’t help but feel that in giving that promise, Loki was in fact admitting something else, something that he couldn’t yet give voice to, but which Tony could feel in the softness of his touch, the gentleness of his expression, and the tenderness in his voice.

Oh, Tony was not blind– he knew that this wouldn’t mean he and Loki would now be inseparable. _Neither_ of them had the constitution for that. But… his faith in Loki was _true_ , because no matter what difficulty they faced, no matter how much distance lay between them, Tony knew that _he_ was the one that Loki always came back to– and this time, he was sure that the moments in between, that the days of their parting would be far fewer than they had been before.

Like two stars circling the sky, they would be drawn back together and then forced apart– but always returning back to each other, never parted forever.

It is said that people linked by destiny will always find each other.

And Tony had never really believed in _destiny_ , especially not the kind which meant he couldn’t choose for himself, but… as Loki placed a finger under Tony’s chin, tilting up his head so that he could kiss him again—

Tony couldn’t help but think that he had ended up exactly where he was always meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the art for this fic on tumbr [here.](https://rabentochter.tumblr.com/post/189994326494/descry-thy-destiny-a-witcher-au-with-the)
> 
> Also the amazing roombasdump made [fanart](https://rabentochter.tumblr.com/post/190069379469/roombasdump-and-yet-here-we-are-right-so)! 👀🙌


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